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Full text of "Slovenly Peter, or, Cheerful stories and funny pictures for good little folks : illustrations colored by hand after the original style"

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JOBIVBRSITY OF 
SSQRTH CAROLINA 
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SLOVENLY PETER 



OR 



CHEERFUL STORIES 



AND 



FUNNY PICTURES 



FOR GOOD LITTLE FOLKS 

ILLUSTRATIONS COLORED BY HAND 

AFTER THE 

ORIGINAL STYLE 



PHILADELPHIA: 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2012 with funding from 

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 



http://archive.org/details/slovenlypeterorchoff 







s 



SLOVENLY PETER 

or 

CHEERFUL STORIES 

AND 

FUNNY PICTURES 




When children have been good, 
That is, be it understood, 
Good at meal-times, good at play, 
Good at night, and good all day, — 
They shall have the pretty things 
Merry Christmas always brings 
Naughty, romping girls and boys 
Tear their clothes and make a noise, 
Soil their aprons and their frocks, 
And deserve no Christmas-box. 
Such as these shall never look 
At this pretty Picture-Book. 




PHILADELPHIA: THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 



803704 



SLOVENLY PETER 




See Slovenly Peter! Here he stands, 

With his dirty hair and hands. 

See! his nails are never cut; 

They are grim'd as black as soot; 

No water for many weeks, 

Has been near his cheeks; 

And the sloven, I declare, 

Not once this j^ear has combed his hair! 

Anything to me is sweeter 

Than to see shock-headed Peter. 



THE STORY OF CRUEL FREDERICK 





This Frederick! this Frederick! 

A naughty, wicked boy was he; 

He caught the flies, poor little things, 

And then tore off their tiny wings; 

He kill'd the birds, and broke the chairs, 

And threw the kitten down the stairs; 

And oh! far worse and worse, 

He whipp'd his good and gentle nurse! 



THE STORY OF CRUEL FREDERICK 




The trough was full, and faithful Tra}' 
Came out to drink one sultry day; 
He wagg'd his tail, and wet his Up, 
When cruel Fred snatch'd up a whip, 
And whipp'd poor Tray till he was sore, 
And kick'd and whipp'd him more and 

more; 
At this, good Tray grew very red, 
And growl'd and bit him till he bled; 
Then you should only have been by, 
To see how Fred did scream and cry ! 



THE STORY OF CRUEL FREDERICK 




So Frederick had to go to bed; 
His leg was very sore and red! 
The Doctor came and shook his head, 
And made a very great to-do, 
And gave him bitter physic too. 




But good dog Tray is happy now; 
He has no time to say "bow-wow!" 
He seats himself in Frederick's chair, 
And laughs to see the nice things there: 
The soup he swallows, sup by sup, — ■ 
And eats the pies and puddings up. 



a 
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THE DREADFUL STORY OF PAULINE AND THE MATCHES 




Mamma and Nurse went out one day, 
And left Pauline alone at play; 
Around the room she gayly sprung, 
Clapp'd her hands, and danced, and sung. 
Now, on the table close at hand, 
A box of matches chanc'd to stand, 
And kind Mamma and Nurse had told her, 
That if she touch'd them they would scold 

her; 
But Pauline said, "Oh, what a pity! 
For, when they burn, it is so pretty; 
They crackle so, and spit, and flame; 
And Mamma often burns the same. 
I'll just light a match or two 
As I have often seen my mother do." 

When Minz and Maunz, the pussy-cats, 

heard this 
They held up their paws and began to hiss. 
"Me-ow!" they said, "me-ow, me-o! 
You'll burn to death, if you do so, 
Your parents have forbidden you, you 

know. " 

But Pauline would not take advice, 
She lit a match, it was so nice! 
It crackled so, it burn'd so clear, — 
Exactly like the picture here. 
She jump'd for joy and ran about, 
And was too pleas'd to put it out. 

When Minz and Maunz, the little cats, 

saw this, 
They said, "Oh, naughty, naughty Miss!" 
And stretch'd their claws, 
And rais'd their paws; 
" 'Tis very, very wrong, you know; 
Me-ow, me-o, me-ow, me-o! 
You will be burnt if you do so, 
Your mother has forbidden you, you 

know. " 





Now see! oh! see, what a dreadful thing, 
The fire has caught her apron-string; 
Her apron burns, her arms, her hair; 
She burns all over, everywhere. 

Then how the pussy-cats did mew, 
What else, poor pussies, could they do? 
They scream'd for help, 'twas all in vain, 
So then, they said, "We'll scream again. 
Make haste, make haste ! me-ow ! me-o ! 
She'll burn to death, — we told her so." 



So she was burnt with all her clothes, 
a And arms and hands, and eyes and nose; 
Till she had nothing more to lose 
Except her little scarlet shoes; 
And nothing else but these was found 
Among her ashes on the ground. 

And when the good cats sat beside 
The smoking ashes, how they cried! 
"Me-ow, me-o! Me-ow, me-oo! 
What will Mamma and Nursy doi"' 
Their tears ran down their cheeks so fast, 
They made a little pord at last. 



p-O 



THE STORY OF THE INKY BOYS 





As he had often done before, 

The woolly-headed black-a-moor 

One nice fine summer's day went out 

To see the shops and walk about; 

And as he found it hot, poor fellow, 

He took with him his green umbrella. 

Then Edward, little noisy wag, 

Ran out and laugh'd, and waved his flag, 

And William came in jacket trim, 

And brought his wooden hoop with him; 

And Caspar, too, snatch'd up his toys 

And joined the other naughty boys; 

So one and all set up a roar, 

And laughed and hooted more and more, 

And kept on singing, — only think! — 

"Oh! Blacky, you're as black as ink." 




THE STORY OF THE INKY BOYS 




THE STORY OF THE INKY BOYS 



Then Saint Nicholas foams with rage: 
Look at him on this very page! 
He seizes Caspar, seizes Ned, 
Takes William by his little head; 
And they may scream, and kick, and 
But into the ink he dips them all; 
Into the inkstand, one, two, three, 
Till they are black, as black can be; 
Turn over now and you shall see. 




THE STORY OF THE INKY BOYS 




THE STORY OF THE WILD HUNTSMAN 



This is the Wild Huntsman that shoots the hares ; 
With the grass-green coat he always wears: 
With game-bag, powder-horn and gun, 
He's going out to have some fun. 
He finds it hard, without a pair 
Of spectacles, to shoot the hare: 
He put his spectacles upon his 

and said, 
^'Now I will shoot the hares, and 

them dead." 



nose 



The hare sits snug in leaves and grass, 
And laughs to see the green man pass. 




THE STORY OF THE WILD HUNTSMAN 



The green man wakes, and sees her place 
The spectacles upon her face. 
She pointed the gun at the hunter's heart, 
Who jumped up at once with a start. 
He cries, and screams, and runs away, 
"Help me, good people, help! I pray." 




At last he stumbled at the well, 

Head over ears, and in he fell. 

The hare stopp'd short, took aim, and hark! 

Bang went the gun! — she miss'd her mark! 

The poor man's wife was drinking up 

Her coffee in her coffee-cup; 

The gun shot cup and saucer through; 

"0 dear!" cried she, "what shall I do?" 

Hiding close by the cottage there, 

Was the hare's own child, the little hare; 

When he heard the shot, he quickly arose, 

And while he stood upon his toes, 

The coffee fell and burn'd his nose; 

"0 dear,'' he cried, "what burns me so?" 

And held up the spoon with his little toe. 




THE STORY OF LITTLE SUCK=A=THUMB 




One day, Mamma said, " Conrad dear, 
I must go out and leave you here. 
But mind now, Conrad, what I say, 
Don't suck your thumb while I'm 

away. 
The great tall tailor always comes 
To little boys that suck their thumbs; 
And ere they dream what he's about, 
He takes his great sharp scissors out 
And cuts their thumbs clean off, — and 

then 
You know, they never grow again." 



Mamma had scarcely turn'd her back, 
The thumb was in, alack! alack! 





The door flew open, in he ran, / ^ 

The great, long, red-legged scissor- ( ^>^ w ^% 
man. J 

Oh! children, see! the tailor's come 
And caught our little Suck-a-Thumb. 
Snip! Snap! Snip! the scissors go; 
And Conrad cries out — Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! 
Snip! Snap! Snip! They go so fast; 
That both his thumbs are off at last. 



Ma mma comes home; there Conrad stands, 
And looks quite sad, and shows his hands; — 
"Ah!" said Mamma, "I knew he'd come 
To naughty little Suck-a-Thumb." 



THE 5T0RY OF AUGUSTUS WHO WOULD NOT HAVE ANY SOUP 





Augustus was a chubby lad; 
Fat ruddy cheeks Augustus had; 
And everybody saw with joy 
The plump and hearty healthy boy. 
He ate and drank as he was told, 
And never let his soup get cold. 
But one day, one cold winter's day, 
He threw away the spoon and screamed : 
" take the nasty soup away ! 
I won't have any soup to-day: 
I will not, will not eat my soup! 
I will not eat it, no!" 

Next day, now look, the picture shows 
How lank and lean Augustus grows ! 
Yet, though he feels so weak and ill, 
The naughty fellow cries out still — 
" Not any soup for me, I say ! 

take the nasty soup away! 

1 will not, will not eat my soup! 
I will not eat it, no!" 

The third day comes. what a sin! 
To make himself so pale and thin. 
Yet, when the soup is put on table, 
He screams, as loud as he is able — 
" Not any soup for me, I say ! 
take the nasty soup away! 

I won't have any soup to-day!" 

Look at him, now the fourth 

day's come! 
He scarce outweighs a sugar-plum; 
He's like a little bit of thread; 
And on the fifth day he was — deadi 



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THE STORY OF FIDGETY PHILIP 




" Let me see if Philip can 

Be a little gentleman; 

Let me see if he is able 

To sit still for once at table." 

Thus spoke, in earnest tone, 

The father to his son; 

And the mother looked very grave 

To see Philip so misbehave. 

But Philip he did not mind 

His father who was so kind. 

He wriggled 

And giggled, 

And then, I declare, 

Swung backward and forward 

And tilted his chair, 

Just like any rocking horse; — 

"Philip! I am getting cross!" 



THE STORY OF FIDGETY PHILIP 




See the naughty, restless child, 
Growing still more rude and wild, 
Till his chair falls over quite. 
Philip screams with all his might, 
Catches at the cloth, but then 
That makes matters worse again. 
Down upon the ground they fall, 
Glasses, bread, knives, forks and all. 
How Mamma did fret and frown, 
When she saw them tumbling down! 
And Papa made such a face! 
Pliilip is in sad disgrace. 



THE STORY OF FIDGETY PHILIP 




Where is Philip? Where is he? 
Fairly cover'd up, you see! 
Cloth and all are lying on him; 
He has pull'd down all upon him! 
What a terrible to-do! 
Dishes, glasses, snapt in two! 
Here a knife, and there fork! 
Philip, this is naughty work. 
Table all so bare, and ah! 
Poor Papa, and poor Mamma 
Look quite cross, and wonder how 
They shall make their dinner now. 



THE STORY OF JOHNNY LOOK-IN-THE = AIR 



aSS 



As he trudg'd along to school, 

It was always Johnny's rule 

To be looking at the sky 

And the clouds that floated by; 

But what just before him lay, 

In his way, 

Johnny never thought about; 

So that every one cried out — 

"Look at little Johnny there, 

Little Johnny Head-In- Air!" 

Running just in Johnny's way, 

Came a little dog one day; 

Johnny's eyes were still astray 

Up on high, 

In the sky; 

And he never heard them cry — 

"Johnny, mind, the dog is nigh!" 

What happens now? 

Bump ! 

Dump! 

Down they fell, with such a thump, 

Dog and Johnny in a lump! 

They almost broke their bones 

So hard they tumbled on the stones. 




THE STORY OF JOHNNY LOOK-IN-THE-AIR 



Once, with head as high as ever, 

Johnny walked beside the river. 

Johnny watch'd the swallows trying 

Which was cleverest at flying. 

Oh! what fun! 

Johnny watch'd the bright round sun 

Going in and coming out; 

This was all he thought about. 

So he strode on, only think! 

To the river's very brink, 

Where the bank was high and steep, 

And the water very deep; 

And the fishes, in a row, 

Stared to see him coming so. 




One step more! Oh! sad to tell! 
Headlong in poor Johnny fell. 
The three little fishes, in dismay, 
Wagg'd their tails and swam away 




THE STORY OF JOHNNY LOOK-IN-THE-AIR 




There lay Johnny on his face; 

With his nice red writing-case; 

But, as they were passing by, 

Two strong men had heard him cry; 

And, with sticks, these two strong men 

Hook'd poor Johnny out again. 



Oh! you should have seen him shiver 
When they pull'd him from the river 
He was in a sorry plight, 
Dripping wet, and such a fright! 
Wet all over, everywhere, 
Clothes, and arms, and face, and hair; 
Johnny never will forget 
What it is to be so wet. 

And the fishes, one, two, three, 
Are come back again, you see; 
Up they came the moment after, 
To enjoy the fun and laughter. 
Each popp'd out his little head, 
And, to tease poor Johnny, said, 
"Silly little Johnny, look, 
You have lost your writing-book 1" 
Look at them laughing, and do you see? 
His satchel is drifting far out to sea! 



THE STORY OF FLYING ROBERT 




What a wind! Oh! how it whistles 
Through the trees and flow'rs and 

thistles. 
It has caught his red umbrella; 
Now look at him, silly fellow, 
Up he flies 
To the skies. 

No one heard his screams and cries; 
Through the clouds the rude wind 

bore him, 
And his hat flew on before him. 



When the rain comes tumbling down 

In the country or the town, 

All good little girls and boys 

Stay at home and mind their toys. 

Robert thought, — " No, when it pours, 

It is better out of doors." 

Rain it did, and in a minute 

Bob was in it. 

Here you see him, silly fellow, 

Underneath his red umbrella. 



% 





Soon they got to such height, 

They were nearly out of sight! 

And the hat went up so high, 

That it almost touch'd the sky. 

No one ever yet could tell 

Where they stopp'd, or where they fell; 

Only this one thing is plain, 

Rob was never seen again! 



THE LITTLE JACOB 







The little Jacob was so small, 

He could no smaller be; 
When he took off his little coat 

Just like a stick looked he. 
His parents, therefore, anxious were 

About their little Jake, 
And said, "Oh, dear! what can we do 

Our Jacob fat to make? 
All sorts of nice things we must get 

For our dear boy to eat; 
Meats boiled and roasted, baked and fried, 

And pies and puddings sweet. 
And then, besides, we'll let him drink 

Plenty of wine and beer; « 

And if this does not make him fat, 

Why nothing will, we fear." 
This, diet, then, they put him on, 

And soon, to their great joy, 
They found that fat and fatter grew 

Their darling little boy. 
When six months passed, and he had grown 

Fat as you see him here, 
His parents said, "You need not now 

Eat quite so much, my dear; 
For, oh! if you become too fat, 

We then may try in vain, 
Unless we give you bitter pills, 

To make you thin again." 





But Jacob would not then obey 

He only ate the more, 
Until, at length, he grew as fat 

As he was thin before. 
One day a hearty meal he made, 

But still was not content; 
Cake, wine, and beer, he slyly took, 

And to the fields he went. 
There, for a while, like any pig, 

He ate and drank alone, 
But suddenly his mother heard 

Her little Jacob moan. 
Out of the house, off to the fields 

Swift as a flash she flew; 
Alas! alas! what saw she there? 

Her Jacob broke in two. 
I'll say this much to boys and girls 

If they be thick or thin, 
That, be this story true or false, 

Sure gluttony's a sin. 




FRANK, THE LIAR 




Come listen while I tell you now, ' 

About a certain youth, 
Who had one dreadful, dreadful fault, 

He never told the truth. 
And while he uttered lies he was 

So handy and so bold, 
That he appeared as innocent 

As if the truth he told. 
One morning, faithful Tray was found 

Upon the pavement dead, 
And Frank had killed him with a stone, 

His little comrades said. 
" 'Twas you who killed the dog," cried Frank, 

"What stories you do tell;" 
But soon the fact was proved on him, 

And his father whipped him well. 




One day into the room he rushed, — 

His eyes were glowing, cheeks were flushed, 

"Oh! mother, father, dear," he said, 

" My little sisters both are dead ! 

Emma fell down and broke her back, 

And little Fan her skull did crack!" 

The parents were distracted nearly, 

They loved their little girls so dearly; 

But scarce the words had from him slipped. 

When in the little sisters tripped. 

The parents' joy now who can tell? 

And Frank again they punished well. 




One night, when all had gone to bed, 

Frank took it in his little head 

That he the people would affright, 

By crying fire with all his might. 

"Fire! fire!" he screamed. Oh, then 'twas fun 

For him to see the people run. 

"Fire! fire! turn out! where is it — where?" 

They cried ; he answered, " There ! there ! there !" 

Till, finding they had been deceived 

And feeling very much aggrieved, 

They poured upon the little liar 

The water destined for the fire. 




When to his home he came again, 

He tried to speak, but 'twas in vain; 

Dreadful to tell, he had become 

Through cold and fright quite deaf and dumb. 

For a whole year he spoke no word; 

No sound in this long time he heard; 

When suddenly one day he tried 

To speak, and found his tongue untied. 

With joy his voice again he hears, — ■ 

He scarcely can believe his ears; 

But greater was the parents' joy 

To find their son a truthful boy; 

For from that time he never spoke 

An untrue word, or played a joke. 




TOM, THE THIEF 






The village clock is striking eight, 

And children, each with book f_nd slate, 

Are hurrying off to school. 
They linger not to talk or play, 
But hasten forward on their way — 

Such is the teacher's rule. 




And there is Tom, whose empty head 
Is with a great big cap o'erspread. 

But see; he turns aside; 
He scorns the sweets that knowledge yields 
And oft prefers to roarn the fields 

From morn till eventide. 
Oft too the warblers of the air 
Are tangled in some secret snare, 

Spread by this naughty boy; 
But darker deeds and thievish gains 
Now occupy his little brains, 

And all his thoughts employ. 



He ponders deep, he ponders long; 
Says he, "The teacher is among 

His pupils and his books; 
What danger if at such a time 
I tiy his apple-trees to climb? 

No eye upon me looks." 




So o'er the garden wall he went, 
And to a tree his footsteps bent, 

Whose excellence he knew; 
Where many an apple ripe and red, 
All temptingly above his head, 

In rich profusion grew. 




Now mark this naught}' little lad, 
While busied in a deed so bad, 

How full he is of fear. 
He looks about with anxious eyes, 
Before, behind, he peeps and pries, 

Lest some one should be near. 
But finding all is safe around, 
His hat and coat upon the ground 

With eager haste he throws; 
Then with both hands the trunk he grasps, 
With both his knees he tightly clasps, 

And up the tree he goes. 





But, oh! what language can express 
Th' alarm and horrible distress 

That racks poor Tommy's mind, 
To feel some strange mysterious force 
Arrest him in his upward course, 

By seizing him behind! 
O'erwhehned with fear at once he stops, 
And almost from the tree he drops 

Down to the ground beneath; 
For, looking round to know the cause, 
He sees the bull-dog's open jaws, 

And sees his glittering teeth. 



W^-OTB 





Aloud he shouts, aloud he bawls, 
And long for help he vainly calls; 

No rescuing friend appears. 
At length, despite the children's noise, 
The echoes of his suppliant voice 

Strike on the teacher's -ears. 
Quickly he hastens out to see 
What in the world the cause can be 

Of such uproarious cries, 
And looking o'er the garden wall, 
Beholds the thief, the dog and all, 

With horror and surprise. 




Nor stood he long with wonder mute; 
A word to the obedient brute 

At once gives Tom relief. 
But ever since that luckless morn, 
Object of universal scorn, 

He's nick-named — Tom the Thief. 



HOW IT HAPPENED TO LAZY CHARLOTTE 




"Here, Charlotte," said Mamma one day, 
"These stockings knit while I'm away; 
And should you fail, be sure 3'ou'h 1 find 
Mamma is strict, although she's kind." 



But Charlotte took a lazy fit, 
And did not feel inclined to knit; 
And soon upon the ground let fall 
Needles, and worsted, hose, and all. 



"I shall not knit," said she, "not I; 

At least not now, but by and by;" 

Then stretched, and yawned, and rubbed her eyes, 

Like sluggards, when 'tis time to rise. 



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^urjv 





e But when Mamma came home, 
J and found 

y The work all strewed upon the 
ground, 
Quoth she, " You will not knit, 

and so 
To school barefooted you shall 
go." 

This put poor Charlotte in a 

fright, 
And though she knew it served 

her right, 
She wept, and begged, and 

prayed; but still 
She could not change her 

mother's will. 



V 



To school, where all were spruce and 

neat, 
Poor Charlotte went with naked feet. 
Some showed their pity, some their 

pride, 
While Charlotte hid her face and cried. 





THE STORY OF ROMPING POLLY 




" I pray you now, my little child, " 

Thus once a kind old lady 
Spoke to her niece in accents mild, 

"Do try to be more steady. 
I know that you will often see 

Rude boys push, drive, and hurry; 
But little girls should never be 

All in a heat and flurry." 

While thus the lady gave advice, 

And lectured little Polly, 
To see her stand with downcast eyes, 

You'd think she owned her folly. 
She did, and many a promise made; 

But when her aunt departed, 
Forgetting all, the merry maid 

Off to the play-ground started. 
Now see what frolic and what fun 

The little folks are after; 
Away they jump, away they run, 

With many a shout of laughter. 




^lILJ 




^f^ 





In sore amaze, the standers by 

Soon placed her on a barrow. 
But, oh! to hear her scream and cry 

Their inmost souls did harrow. 
See how her brother bursts in tears, 

When told the dreadful story; 
And see how carefully he bears 

The limb all wet and gory. 
Full many a week, screwed up in bed, 

She lingered sad and weary; 
And went on crutches, it is said, 

Ev'n to the grave so dreary. 



THE CRY=BABY 




"O, why are you always so bitterly crying? 

You surely will make yourself blind. 
What reason on earth for such sobbing and 
sighing, 
I pray can you possibly find? 
'Tis no real sorrow, 'tis nothing distressing, 
That makes you thus grieve and lament. 
All! no; you are even this moment possessing 

Whatever should make you content. 
Now do, my dear daughter, give over this 
weeping." 
Such was a kind mother's advice. 
But all was in vain; for you see she's still keep- 
ing 
Her handkerchief up to her eyes. 
But now she removes it ; and oh ! she discloses 

A countenance full of dismay; 
For she certainly feels, or at least she supposes, 

Her eyesight is going away. 
She is not mistaken, her sight is departing; 

She knows it, and sorrows the more; 
Then rubs her sore eyes, to relieve them from 
smarting, 
And makes them still worse than before. 
And now the poor creature is cautiously crawl- 
ing, 
And feeling her way all around; 
And now from their sockets her eyeballs are 
falling ; 
See, there they are, down on the ground. 
My children, from such an example take warn- 
ing, 
And happily live while you may; 
And say to yourselves, when you rise in the 
morning, 
"I'll try to be cheerful to-day." 



■ » ■ ^J- 






SOPHY SPOILALL 





I never saw a girl or boy 

So prone as Sophy to destroy 

Whate'er she laid her hands upon, 

Though tough as wood, or hard as stone; 

No matter who the thing might claim, 

With Sophy it was all the same; 

No matter were it choice or rare, 

For naught did the destroyer care. 

Her playthings shared the common lot; 

Though hers they were she spared them not. 

Her dolls she oft tore limb from limb, 

To gratify her foolish whim. 

"Fie!" said her mother, "don't you know, 

That if you use your playthings so, 

Kriss Kringle will in wrath refuse 

To give you what you thus abuse? 

Remember, how in years gone by, 

You've always found a rich supply 

Of Christmas presents; but beware, 

You'll find no more another year.". 



mmnnuun 



BBSs — ; — im 



»■■ !_■ . - mn » 



J 




You'd think such words would 

surely tend 
To make this child her ways amend. 
But no; she still her course pursued, 
Regardless of advice so good. 
But when her mother sees 'tis plain 
That all her arguments are vain, 
Says she, "Since I have done my 

best, 
I'll let experience do the rest." 
Meantime the season of the year 
For Christmas gifts was drawing 

near, 
And Sophy doubted not that she 
An ample store of them would see. 

At length the happy hour was come, 
The children, led into a room, 
Behold, with wonder and surprise, 
Three tables set before their eyes. 
One is for Nelly, one for Ned, 
And both with choicest treasures 

spread. 
The other table is left bare, 
And see, poor Sophy's standing 

there. 
"You see, my loves," their father 

said, 
"Kriss Kringle has the difference 

made, 
Which oft we told you that he would , 
Between the naughty and the good.". 



(] 



J 



ENVIOUS MSNNY 







Now Minny was a pretty girl, 
Her hair so gracefully did curl; 
She had a slender figure, too, 
And rosy cheeks, and eyes of blue. 

And yet, with all those beauties rare, 
Those angel eyes and curly hair, 
Oh! many, many faults had she, 
The worst of which was jealousy. 

When on the shining Christmas tree 
St. Nicholas hung his gifts so free, 
The envious Minny could not beer 
With any one these gifts to share. 



And when her sisters' birthdays came, 
Minny (it must be told with shame) 
Would envy every pretty thing 
Which clear mamma to them would bring. 

Sometimes great tears rolled from her eyes, 
Sometimes she pierced the air with cries, 
For days together she would fret 
Because their toys she could not get. 

Ah, then! how changed this pretty child 
No longer amiable and mild, 
That fairy form and smiling face 
Lost all their sprightliness and grace. 



Her tender mother often sighed, 
And to reform her daughter tried; 
"Oh! Minny, Minny," she would say, 
" Quite yellow you will turn some day." 



€^ 




Now came the merry Christmas feast; 
St. Nicholas brought to even the least 
Such pretty presents, rich and rare, 
But all the best for Minny were. 



But Minny was not satisfied, 
She pouted, fretted, sulked, and cried; 
Sisters and brothers had no rest, — 
She vowed their presents were the best. 




°WTf^ 



Now, to her little sister Bess 
St. Nicholas brought a yellow dress; 
This Minny longed for (envious child) 
And snatched it from her sister mild. 

Then all in tears did Bessy run 
To tell her mother what was done, 
While Minny ran triumphantly 
To try the dress on, as you see. 




And springing quickly to the glass, 
What saw she there? alas! alas! 
Oh! what a sad, a deep disgrace! 
She found she had a yellow face. 

"Ah, me!" she cried, now, in despair, 
"Where are my rosy cheeks — oh, where?" 
"Ho!" screamed the parrot, "nowyousee 
The punishment of jealousv!" 



THE HISTORY OF THE DIRTY CHILD 




The little girls whom here you see 
Were sisters in one family; 
And both enjoyed an equal share 
Of a kind mother's anxious care. 



The one in neatness took a pride, 
And oft the brush and comb applied; 
Oft washed her face, and oft her hands; 
See, now, thus occupied she stands. 



The other — oh! I grieve to say 
How she would scream and run away, 
Soon as she saw her mother stand 
With water by, and sponge in hand. 
She'd kick, and stamp, and jump about, 
And set up such an awful shout, 
That one who did not know the child, 
Would say she must be going wild. 



In consequence it came to pass, 
While one was quite a pretty lass 
And many a fond admirer gained, 
And many a little gift obtained; 
The other, viewed with general scorn, 
Was left forsaken and forlorn; 
For no one can endure to see 
A child all dirt and misery. 




Behold how needful 'tis that we 
Should clean in dress and person bej 
Or else, believe me, 'tis in vain 
We hope affection to obtain. 
A sloven will be always viewed 
With pity by the wise and good; 
While ev'n the vicious and the base 
Behold with scorn a dirty face. 




CRUEL PAUL 




*£a«<^* 




Now see, my dears, this naughty child, 
Oh! does he not look fierce and wild? 
Well, this is just the very way 
Paul went about from day to day. 




But, oh! my children, see him here, 

His turn came soon to quake with fear. 

One summer's day, with one accord, 

The creatures gave him his reward: 

The cat sprang up, and scratched his nose; 

The rats came out and gnawed his toes; 

The dogs flew at his legs and back; 

The geese came waddling — quack ! quack ! quack ! 

And even the crows that you see there, 

Flew down and pulled him by the hair. 

The chickens tried to pick his eyes; 



And katydids, and bees, and flies, 

Came streaming out from all the trees, 

This cruel boy to sting and tease. 

He struggled, fought with all his might, 

But still the creatures held him tight. 

"Oh! no," cried they, "you'll not go free, 

You shall repent your cruelty. 

No more dumb creatures you'll torment, 

To punish you we now are bent. " 

They stung, they bit him foot and head, 

Nor left him till he fell quite dead. 



SLOVENLY BETSY 




Betsy would never wash herself 
When from her bed she rose, 

But just as quickly as she could 
She hurried on her clothes. 

To keep her clothes all nice and clean 

Miss Betsy took no pains; 
In holes her stockings always were, 

Her dresses filled with stains. 



Sometimes she went day after day 
And never combed her hair, 

While little feathers from her bed 
Stuck on it here and there. 

The schoolboys, when they Bets,y saw, 
Would point her out, and cry, 

" Oh ! Betsy, what a sight you are ! 
Oh! Slovenly Betsy, fie!" 




One rainy day her parents went 
Some pleasant friends to meet; 

They took Miss Betsy with them, 
And dressed her clean and neat. 



Nice little boys and girls were there, 
With whom our Betsy played, 

Until of playing she grew tired, 
And to the garden strayed. 




Out in the rain she danced awhile, 

But 'twas not long before 
Flat down she tumbled in the mud, 
. And all her nice clothes tore. 

Oh! what a sight she was, indeed, 

When in the room she came; 
The guests all loudly laughed at her, 

And she almost died with shame. 

She turned, and to her home she ran, 

And, just as here you see, 
She washed her clothes, and since has been 

As neat as she could be. 



PHOEBE ANN, THE PROUD GIRL. 



This Phoebe Ann was a very proud girl, 
Her nose had always this upward curl — 
She thought herself better than all beside, 
And beat the peacock himself in pride. 
She thought the earth so dirty and brown, 
That she never, b} r any chance, looked down ; 
And held her head so very high 
That her neck began to stretch, bye and bye — 
It stretched and it stretched, and it grew so 

long, 
That her parents thought something must be 

wrong — 
It stretched and stretched, and they soon 

began 
To look up with fear at their Phoebe Ann. 
They prayed her to stop her upward gaze, 
But Phoebe kept on in her old proud ways; 
At last it grew so long and spare, 
That her head was more than this neck could 

bear — 
And it bent to the ground, like a willow tree, 
And brought down the head of this proud 

Phoefre. 
Whenever she went out, a walk to take, 
The boys would holbr, " Here comes a 

snake!" 
And it got so heavy a load to drag on, 
She had to push her head about on a little 

wagon. 
So don't you hold }^our head too high, 
Or your neck may stretch too, bye and bye. 





DISCONTENTED LUCY. 



^ ** jfc> 




Lucy was restless and tired of her home, 

She sulked and she pouted, and wanted to roam 

Because Katy's wax doll had a bright blue eye, 

And lived in a baby house four stories high, 

All furnished with tables, and stoves, and chairs, 

With carpets, and candles, and kitchen wares; 

While Jane had a bird that could almost speak, 

And Betty had tea parties every week; 

Susan had candy whenever she chose, 

And Mary Ann wore the most splendid clothes; 

Nelly's mamma in a carriage rode, 

While Lucy's mother baked, scrubbed, and sewed; 

Patty's papa could to Newport go, 

While Lucy's had daily to handle the hoe: 

So she envied her friends their grand estate, 

And fretted and cried at her own sad fate. 

Under a tree she was sitting one day, 

While her work in her lap neglected lay — 

"Hoho! ho! — ho!" with a voice of glee, 

Came from the topmost branch of the tree, 

Where was perched a black and shiny crow, 

Looking at Lucy down below. 

"What do 3 r ou want? you ugly bird!" 

"Ho!— ho! he!— he!" Twas thus she heard— 

" Come with me, come with me, 

Lucy, if you wish to see 

All on earth that is good and pretty — 

Great dolls with eyes that roll about, 

That talk, and cry, and smile, and pout; 

Mountains of candy shining as gold, 

With pink stripe and yellow, you shall behold; 

Oceans of jam — pots of honey — 

Plenty of sugar and plenty of money; 

And you shall play, 

The livelong day, 
With toys of all kinds that are nicest for you, 
No school, no task, and nothing to do; 




For my master, Gobhoblin, loves little girls dear, 
And to pick up some nice one has sent me here. 
Come on, pretty Lucy, and fear no disaster, 
Let me take you to see Gobhoblin, my master; 
I'll hop from the tree, and you jump on my tail, 
And I'll carry you to him without any fail." 

So on she jumped, away they flew — 
Clap— clap — rattle — rattle — without more ado. 
They flew so fast, and they flew so high, 
That they soon got very far into the sky — 

They flew so fast, 

The town they passed, 
And got into the fields where the tall trees grew, 
While above their heads there was nothing but 

blue ; 
But the trees looked glum, and seemed to say, 
"Oh! you naughty bad girl for running away !" 

Then Lucy was sorry for what she had done, 
And wished very much that she had not gone, 
And begged the crow to take her home 
To her father's and mother's quiet room; 
But although she cried till her eyes were red, 
Still "Caw! caw! caw!" was all he said. 
"We'll stop," added he, "for a moment or so, 
To visit my lady the good Madam Crow, 
Who fives on that tree, 
Over there that you see, 
With all my little family." 

With terror and with fright oppressed, 

Lucy was glad enough to rest 

By the side of the dark and dreary nest. 

Now two hunters out for sport that day, 
Happened to pass along that way; 






The one was thin, with a stove-pipe hat, 
The other was short, and dumpy, and fat, 
With very low shoes and very tight clothes, 
And a large pair of spectacles over his nose; 
They had but one gun which they carried between 

'em, 
And looked so droll, you'd have laughed had you 
seen 'em. 

"Oh, what a shot! 

See what we've got! 

A great black Crow! 

Don't let him go! 

Rest the gun on my shoulder!" 

Said the shorter and bolder; 

" Come, fire away ! 

Don't lose all day!" 
Slap — bang! the gun popped, 
Down — down the bird dropped— 
And Lucy too, with a fearful bound, 
Tumbling and rolling fell to the ground. 

The men rubbed their eyes, 

And showed great surprise — 

When they looked at her head 

They thought she was dead — 
But soon they heard poor Lucy speak, 
In such a tiny little squeak — 
"Oh! no— I ain't dead; just rub off the dirt, 
And you'll find I am only a little hurt : 
I'm such a bad girl — I ran away — 
Oh! take me home — I beg — I pray." 
So they took her home, where she is to this day, 
A proof of the truth of what I say; 
And a lesson to all little girls who fret 
And worry for things that they cannot get, 
Not to envy their playfellows' clothes or toys, 
Or the richer estate that she enjoys, 
For that was the way that Lucy, you know, 
Was carried away by that great black Crow. 




IDLE FRITZ. 




Fritz was an idle boy, indeed; 
He would not learn to write or read; 
An ugly face he always made; 
His parents, too, he disobeyed; 
And mischief was the chief employ 
Of this poor, foolish, idle boy. 
Look at this picture now, my dear, 
And see what he is doing here; 
He holds his sister by the braid, 
And beats the frightened little maid. 
She begs, her tears flow down like rain ; 



Fritz only laughs to see her pain. 

This cat and bird, here lying dead, 

He caught and knocked them in the head. 

He took from off the fence a rail, 

And tied it to poor Carlo's tail; 

And, oh! 'twould take me many da3"s 

To tell you all his wicked ways. 

He for his parents nothing cared, 

Therefore, to cure him they despaired: 

And, finding they could bear no more, 

They whipped and drove him from their door. 




fix 





'Twas winter time — the snow fell fast, 
And fiercely blew the wintry blast; 
Fritz shook with cold from head to toe, 
And knew not now where he should go. 



But presently a cave he spied; 
"Oh! there I'll refuge take," he cried. 
Alas! alas! he did not know 
That there he'd meet a cruel foe. 







A wolf had made this cave his den; 
Fritz never saw the light again. 



SIMPLE HANS. 




'Tis Simple Hans that here you see, 
The picture of stupidity. 
His coat is on wrong side before, 
His book is thrown upon the floor; 
His father gave him yesterday 
This pretty horse with which to play; 
See how he holds it! awkward clown, 
Its heels are up, its head is down. 
Oh! if it were alive, my dear, 



How terribly 'twould plunge and rear: 
And, I declare, I'd just as soon 
Go up and ask the man in the moon 
To please to play on that trumpet a tune, 
As I would ask Hans to play — the loon! 
And then, too, see that foolish stare. 
Ala! do, my little ones, take care 
That nobody, by any chance, 
Can call you Little Simple Hans. 



HEEDLESS HUGO. 




This Hugo was a heedless child, 

In mischief everywhere; 
For him there was no prank too wild 



Or dangerous to dare. 



One day he saw a pile of wood, 
And up he climbed, so bold; 

The logs gave way while there he stood, 
And down, down, down he rolled. 



And once, when in a neighbor's yard 

Our Hugo was at play, 
He to the watch-dog's kennel ran, 

And snatched his food away. 



Poor Carlo growled and struggled 
Until he burst his chain; 

Then, at our Hugo's leg he flew, 
And made him shriek with pain. 




One day he cried, " Come, children, oh ! 

Come see how high I'll jump." 
He sprang the rope, but caught his toe, 

And on his nose came plump. 



He to the river one day ran, — 
For Hugo nothing feared, — 

Splash in he went — the little man — 
And quickly disappeared. 



But luckily a fisherman 

Was standing on the shore, 

Who pushed off in his little boat, 
And held to him his oar. 



Oh! didn't Hugo clutch it then? 

For, though he ate the fish, 
That they should try and swallow him 

Was not at all his wish. 




Hilt 



One day a carpenter was sent 
The old church-steeple to repair, 

And when he to his dinner went 
He left his ladder hanging there. 

Now Hugo happened just to be 
That very moment passing by, 

"Oh, dear!" he cried, and danced with glee, 
" I'll climb that ladder there so high. " 

Then to the steeple up he flew, 

Crept through the little window there; 

Climbed up the little ladder too, 
And made the little swallows stare. 



But, oh! the ladder slipped and fell, 
Just as he reached the steeple vane, 

And Hugo — dreadful tale to tell — 
Came never back to earth again. 



THE NIGHT WANDERER. 




When other children were asleep 
Our Oswald down the stairs would creep, 
And to the fields he'd steal away, 
Quite slyly by himself to play. 
Sometimes he took the powder-horn, 
Vy And with the powder burnt the corn; 
Sometimes he hid behind a tree, 
And, rushing out quite suddenly, 
Would make a loud and fearful cry, 
And frighten all the passers-by. 
Indeed, it was his chief delight 
To run away from home at night. 
His parents shook their heads, and said, 
"Oh! Oswald, stay at home in bed, 
For if you out at night do roam 
A bat you surely will become." 
But all their talking was in vain; 
Still Oswald would go out again; 
But, oh! just as his friends had said, 
One night, as round the fields he sped, 
Upon him came a wondrous change; 
"Ah, me!" he cried, "How very strange! 
I feel that I become so small, — 
And now — I cannot walk at all. 



I put my hands up to my head, 

But find a bat's face in its stead; — 

And now — my hands are gone. Oh, dear I 

Instead of arms what have I here? 

Such very, very curious things. 

Why, can they be? Oh, 3 r es, they're wings. 

Alas! alas! what shall I do? 

My parents' words are coming true. 

An ugly bat I have become, 

And never more shall I go home." 

Oh! yes, my dears, it was too true; 
An ugly bat away he flew; 
His parents' tears streamed down like rain; 
They never saw their child again. 




NED THE TOY=BREAKER. 



Now Christmas comes with all its J03's, 
And, 0! such wondrous pretty toys 
Kriss Kringle's men have brought to-night, 
That you would marvel at the sight. 

To Neddy e'en too many things 

The happy night of Christmas brings. 

There's, first of all, a Christmas tree, 

And, hanging from it, as you see, 

Of lighted tapers many a score, 

And apples gilt and silvered o'er; 

Whole piles of dainty gingerbread, 

And plums, and sweetmeats there are spread; 

And Ned is such a happy boy 

He's fit to laugh for very joy! 





A golden horse he finds besides, 
Whose back a soldier bold bestrides, 
A trumpet gilt — a drummer new, 
Who beats a regular tattoo, 
As oft the handle round you twist 
So often works each tiny fist. 

Ned's father says: "Now mind, dear boy, 
And while these presents you enjo)', 
Still spoil not what you cannot make, 
And do not all your playthings break." 

But Ned would no attention pay — 
He likes to spoil as well as play. 
He breaks the trumpet right in two — 
The drummer's handle in a freak 
He madly turns, and makes it creak, 
Till man and drum to pieces go. 





The fragments form a heap confused — 
Was ever drummer more ill-used? 
Here lies a head and there a boot, 
And here the drum that's henceforth mute; 
And here a sword and there the stand, 
And drumsticks but without a hand. 
In short, such ruin has been wrought, 
As though a battle had been fought! 



And when Papa the mischief spies, 
And sees the broken toys, he cries: 
"Why, Ned, is this the care you take, 
When told to play and not to break?" 




But careless Neddy does not hear 
The warning voice that meets his ear; 
And when Papa has turned his back, 
Again the toys go snap and crack! 
The horse and rider both are dashed 
Upon the floor, and reckless smashed; 
And loud the soldier cries aghast: 
"Ah me! Ah me! I'm dying fast!" 



Now in the Christmas fairies trip, 
And from the tree the apples strip, 
They take the horse and gingerbread, 
And all the playthings spoilt by Ned, 
And with the broken fragments make 
A substance which they knead and bake 
And by-and-by, when duly warm, 
Into a giant nose they form, — 
Full six feet long, and very thick, 
Which on to Neddy's face they stick; 
And henceforth, with this hideous snout- 
Must Neddy live and go about. 




PRYING WILL. 

Will so delights to peep and pry, 

That all about the house he goes, 
Upstairs and down, from low to high, — 

And everywhere he pokes his nose. 



Into the kitchen now he comes, 
Where, that same morn, with luscious plums, 
Made into jam, and still quite hot — 
The cook had filled a giant pot. 





Will must, of course, remove the lid 
To see what treasures there lie hid, 
When — losing his balance — up he trips, 
And plump! head-foremost in he slips. 

His feet are seen above the rim, 
But sure the pot has swallowed him! 
And buried in its sweets he lies, 
That fill his mouth and stop his cries 

But cook now shrieks, tho' Will is dumb; 
His startled parents quickly come, 
And drag out Billy in a fright, 
Oh, lack-a-day! Oh, what a sight! 

Blue is his jacket, shirt, and frill, 
And blue inside and out is Bill! 

So blue, so blue — 

Thro' life he'll rue 
The foolish prank that made him so; 
For ne'er away the stain would go- 
But blue face, neck, and hands remained, 
And thus the name of Prying Bill he gained I 



THE LITTLE GLUTTON. 




Oh! how this Mary loved to eat, — 

It was her chief delight; 
She would have something, sour or sweet, 

To munch from morn till night. 

She to the pantry daily stole, 

And slyly she would take 
Sugar, and plums, and sweetmeats, too, 

And apples, nuts, and cake. 



Her mother Mar}* oft reproved, 

But, ah! it did no good; 
Munch, nibble, chew, from morn to night, 



The little glutton would. 




One day, upon some bee-hives near 
She chanced to cast her eyes; 

"How nice that honey there must taste!' 
She cried, and off she flies. 

On tiptoe now the hives she nears, 
Close up to them she creeps, 

And tnrough the little window panes 
Quite cautiously she peeps. 



"Oh, dear! how good it looks!" she cries, 

As she the honey sees; 
"I must, I will, indeed, have some; 

It cannot hurt the bees." 

And now a hive she gently lifts, — 

Oh, foolish, foolish child — 
Down, down it falls — out swarm the bees, 

Buzzing with fury wild. 



With fright she shrieks, and tries to run, 

But, ah! 'tis all in vain; 
Upon her light the angry bees, 

And make her writhe with pain. 




Four weeks and more did Mary lie 

Upon her little bed, 
And, ah! instead of honey, she 

On medicine was fed. 



Her parents grieved much at first 

Their child so sick to see; 
But once more well, with joy they found 

Her cured of gluttony. 



Tomoa&jc^ 




~+±+*?%m©&****~ 




Tom Bogus did, the naughty boy, 
What you, I hope do not — 
His sole delight, by morn, by night, 

Was in the sugar-pot; 
For he could eat, all by himself, 

A lump of such large size, 
'Twould take two days to view it round, 

Though straining both your eyes. 
His coffee ne'er was sweet enough, 

E'en had he sixteen lumps; 
And if they had no more to give 

Would get into the dumps. 

His mother, early in the morn, 

Would go and fill the bowl, 
By half-past one, it all was gone — 

He'd eaten up the whole! 




His father groaned and tore his hair, 

It wrung his heart and purse; 
But greedy Tommy had no care, 

But kept on getting worse. 
Molasses, sugar, or rock candy — 

So that it tasted good and sweet- 
He stole whenever it came handy, 

And in a corner sneaked to eat. 

Such toothaches sugar caused to Tom. 

I hope you ne'er may feel; 
The dentist was obliged to come 

And make this Tommy squeal. 





He soiled his pants with dirty barrels, 

Sucking molasses through a straw — ■ 
And fought Ms sister, naughty quarrels! 

If it was stopped and would not draw. 
At last, the juice came through his pores, 

And covered his skin with a sticky slime, 
Till the bees and the flies flew about him in 
scores, 

And sucked at his body all the time: 
They bit, they scratched, tormented, and 
stung him, 

Till he had no rest by night or daj~. 
Hie schoolmates ran when he came among them, 

So he never could get a chance to play. 
At length his body became all sugar — 

He had no blood, nor flesh, nor bones — 
And got so soft, that when you touched him, 

It made him cry with fearful moans. 

One day when walking in the streets, 

A heavy rain began to fall, 
And washed and drenched his body of sweets, 

Till it melted him down to nothing at all — 
He ran away like softened butter, 

When before the fire it is put to warm — 
The pigs and the dogs ate him up in the gutter, 

And this was the end of Sugary Tom. 




JIMMY SLIDERLEGS 




I guess there ain't one little boy 

Of all who read these lines — 
Who to sliding down the bannisters, 

Won't own that he inclines; 
They think it's like the steam engine, 

Or like a bird a flying, 
Until they split their heads in two. 

And then they fall a crying. 
Now all you sliders hark to me — 

Listen, your uncle begs — 
While he recites the sad story 

Of Jimmy Sliderlegs. 
Jimmy was alwa} r s on the stairs, 

By morns, by eves, by noons — 
He wore out thirteen splendid pairs 

Of bran-new pantaloons; 
He bunged his eyes — he hurt his nose — 

His father lectured him quite strongly- 
Gave him a beating of hard blows — 

But Jimmy went on sliding wrongly, 
And spoiled no end of costly clothes. 

He stretched his legs so far apart 
By such a frequent strain, 

That it took all the Doctor's art 
To get them back again. 





One day his parents out had gone 

To see a friend who'd come from France, 
And Jimmy being quite alone, 

Thought for a slide this was his chance, 
He mounted to the highest story, 

He clasped the bannisters around — 
He gave a cry of " Hooray I Glory!" 

And on the rail jumped with a bound — 
Down! down he went — now quick, now quicker — - 

He went so fast, he could not see — 
The turns first make him sick, then sicker — 

His head began to whirl! Ah me! 

Just like a windmill's sails a-turning, 

He twisted, tumbled, turned and twirled — 

His arms and legs flew far asunder! 
His body on the floor was hurled! 

He turned so fast that his head came off— 
And his arms! 

And his legs! ! 

Like so many pegs! ! ! 

Flew about in the air! ! ! ! 

Now here! now there! ! ! ! ! 

And all that was left, was a lock of his hair ! ! ! ! I 





HarPvyGo&us 



AND THE SHANG = HAIS 



Young Harry Cobus lived in town 

And when the summer came, 
Went out to visit Uncle Brown, 

Who lived in Pudding Lane. 
Harry, who in a city lived, 

Knew nothing of the fields — 
Grew wild with joy, and leaped and kicked, 

And threw up both his heels — 
Into the farm-yard quick he went, 

And opened both his eyes, 
To see the oxen and the cows, 

And the long-legged Shang-hais. 
Now Harry was a cruel boy, 

Nor cared for others' pain, 
So long as he could have his fun, 

You'd mercy seek in vain. 
"Oh! ho!" said he, "my long-legged chick, 

With those big legs of yours, 
You ought to run uncommon quick, 

Let's see you show your power." 
With that he raised a monstrous stone, 

And threw it at one's head — 
He fell right down, the others ran, 

And left their comrade dead. 






Now when this deed his Uncle heard, 

He wept, and moaned, and cried, 
For it was his pet darling bird 

That thus had fallen and died. 
But soon the birds came running back, 

A large and angry crowd — 
On Harry cast their great big eyes, 

And crowed and cackled loud; 
About him now they clustered fast, 

They circled him around, 
Till frightened, trembling, he at last 

FeU flat upon the ground. 
The biggest bird, with a great gobble, 

Then caught him by his pantaloons, 
And ran, as fast as he could hobble, 

Despite poor Harry's shrieks and groans; 
He took him to the carter's pot, 

All full of grease and nasty tar, 
And dipped him in, and rolled him till 

He got as sticky as candies are. 
He took him then unto his nest 

And rolled him there, till the feathers sticking 
All over his head, and neck, and breast, 

Just made him look like a Shang-hai chicken. 
They put him then upon the eggs — 

Of which there was a monstrous batch — 
And made him sit with his crooked legs, 

With at least a hundred eggs to hatch. 
Two great big roosters stand to watch, 

To see that he don't run away; 
And there he sets on that old nest, 

I do believe to this very day. 




THE HISTORY OF DOCTOR WANGO TANGO. 



Old Doctor Wango Tango, 

Had a long red nose; 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 

Always wore green clothes; 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 
Lived by himself all alone; 
When he went out to ride, 
He sat astride 
Of a steed all skin and bone. 

Old Doctor Wango Tango 

Also had a cat, 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 

Let her sleep in his hat; 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 
Wore a big red cloak; 
And he had a long pipe, 
Like the bill of a snipe, 
Which he often used to smoke. 



Old Doctor Wango Tango 

Had a dog also; 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 

Had a tame black crow; 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 
Called his thin horse Sam; 
His dog's name was Towser, 
And his cat's name was Mouser, 
And the crow's name was Flippity Flam. 






Now old Doctor Wango Tango 

Lived on a biscuit a day, 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 

Got very light this way; 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 
Gave his animals nothing to eat, 
Though it sometimes came to pass, 
That they found a little grass, 
Or a crust, or a bone without meat. 

Now old Doctor Wango Tango 

Went out one day to ride, 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 

Had Towser running by his side; 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 
Had Mouser sitting behind, 
And Flippity Flam 
Flew around old Sam: 
Such a party you'll seldom find. 

Now old Doctor Wango Tango 

Rode to the top of a hill, 
And old Doctor Wango Tango 

Found the wind very high and chill — 
Away blew old Doctor Tango! 

Away blew his thin horse Sam! 
Away blew Towser and Mouser! 

And the black crow, Flippity Flam! 




THE TRAGICAL STORY OF MAMMY 
KATCHEM AND HER KITTENS 



Old Mammy Katchem, a worthy old cat, 

Lived in a box lined with hay; 
She could face, without winking, the wickedest 

rat — 
With a snap of her teeth she would soon lay 
him flat, 

In a true fighting, Tabby-cat way. 
Old Mammy Katchem had three little kits — 

Tommykin, Pussy, and Bunch — 
She gave them a mouse, pulled into small bits, 

Every day before dinner for lunch; 
They usually dined on what they could get— 

What their Mammy could beg, catch, or steal — 
And it mattered but little how often they ate, 

They were always keen for a meal. 
Bunch was a kitten with great staring eyes; 

Puss was most frisky of friskers; 
And Tommykin's points were his musical cries, 

And thickness and length of his whiskers. 
One day, Mammy Katchem abroad would go, 

To hunt up something for dinner — 
For kittens must eat, like children, you know, 

Or else they get thinner and thinner. 







So she put on her bonnet and sharpened her 
claws, 

And though the three children looked glum, 
She bade them keep close in the house — be- 
cause, 

If they didn't, to grief they'd come — 
For a great savage dog lived just next door — 

A dog without any feelings — 
Who would eat three kittens, and bark for 
more, 

In spite of their scratchings and squealings; 
And a dirty old man lived down the lane, 

Who was fond fo savory stews — ■ 
And people did say, that time and again, 

They had heard in his house painful mews — 
Then kissing them all, she went on her way 

To a barn in the neighborhood, 
Where the corn-fed mice made nests in the hay 

And grew very fat and good. 
Now Tommykin was a kitten wild, 

More apt to do wrong than right; 
And what do you think this naughty child 

Did — when Mammy was out of sight? 




Why, lie said he was going out for a run, 

And that Pussy and Bunch must come too — 
Shut up in that box, they could have no fun, 

And there was no danger he knew. 
Pussy said, at once, that she would not go; 

But Bunch, who was rather weak, 
And never could say, decidedly, "No!" 

Agreed — though she felt like a sneak. 
So they left the box, and away they ran, 

In a scampering kind of race, 
But the dog soon saw them — and then began 

A very exciting chase : 
Bunch ran this way — Tommykin that, — 

Old Growler chased Bunch alone — 
For he thought she looked like the tenderest cat, 

He e'er in his life had known. 
She reached the box — caught the side with her 
claws, 

And got in, by an active jump; 
But the dog caught her tail in his cruel jaws, 

And pulled it all off, but the stump! 






Tommykin ran down the dirty lane, 

Where the dirty old man soon caught him, 
And, alas! he never was seen again, 

Though his Mammy carefully sought him. 
The dirty old man had a feast that day, 

On pepper-pot soup he dined; 
And after that dinner, the neighbors say, 

If you looked, you could easily find 
Before his door, 
A dozen or more 
Of little, well picked, white kitten bones, 
Lying about on the pavement stones! 

His mother and sisters mourned for him long, 
And Bunch ne'er again did an} r thing wrong; 
For whenever she wanted to disobey, 
She thought of that very dreadful day — 
When she lost both her tail and her little brother- 
So she ever after obeyed her mother. 



'^Q 





TRUANT PETER. 

Young Peter should have gone to school, 

But stole a holiday; 
And like a naughty truant boy, 

Ran off to fish and play. 
The teacher found that he was gone, 

And asked his cousin Jane, 
" Where is the lazy Peter now? 

He stays from school again!" 
But neither Jane nor any one 
Knew where the naughty boy had run. 





But Peter to the river came, 

And found a little boat; 
So jumping in he took the oars, 

And far away did float. 

And Peter saw beneath the flood, 
Bright fishes, great and small; 

And thought, as every schoolboy would, 
He'd like to catch them all. 



So in the river he let fall, 

A baited hook and twine; 
And soon the largest fish of all, 

Was tugging at his line. 
And Peter pulled and gave a shriek, 

And caught it by the fin; 
But Peter was too small and weak, 

And the fish soon pulled him in; 
Down with the fish must Peter go — 
Down to the other fish below! 






On this same day, not far away, 
Two fishers their tackles set; 
And little Peter with his fish, 
Were caught in the same great 
net. 
Their lines they drew the water 
through, 
And pulled them to the strand. 
And thought 'twas a fish with 
coat and hat, 
When Peter came to land. 



For with the fishes, great and small, 

Which they had caught that day, 

Right in the midst among them all, 

The naughty Peter lay: 
The net, by chance, had caught him 

round, 
Or Peter would have else been 

drowned. 
So mind, ye children, what I say, 
Ne'er while you live the truant play, 
Or something worse may come to 

you, 
Than e'en a wetting through and 

through. 




THE CROW=BIDDY. 




THERE was once a man and his wife, who 
one fine morning found an egg. "Well," said 
the wife, "wait till it is hatched : and some 



beautiful bird will certainly come from it!" 



And when the egg was 
hatched, what did they 
have P---A great Chicken, 
and a very naughty one. 
But the man and his wife 
said, " O WHAT A LOVELY 

Bird!" 





And the Chicken 
began to crow 
and make a 
dreadful noise. 
And the man said 
---" How sweetly 
our dear Bird 



sings 



>? 




And when the 
Crow-Biddy snatch- 
ed at everything on 
the dinner-table, and 
spilt the cream, the 
good wife said, "What 
an appetite the dear 
thing has!" 



And when 
he tore up 
his school- 
books, and 
threw them 
away, they 
said, "Oh! our 
Pet knows 
everything!" 




And when 

he broke all 

the plates and 

dishes, they 

said, "HOW 
LIVELY THE 
DEAR THING 
IS!" 





After a time 
the cock beat 
the man, but 
he only said, 
Iff "How strong 
and stout he 
is growing! ' 




One day the cock went 
into the street, and threw 
stones at the lamps and 
windows, and husband 
and wife both said, "In- 
deed there is nobody like 
him in the whole town." 



But then 
came a sol- 
dier, and 
caught the 
cbck, and 
lacked h i m 
up in a dark 
pflson. This 
time the hus- 
band and wife 
said nothing.